


Truth at the End

by hypnoshatesme



Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Idk what to tag this as, M/M, Sad, but it's definitley not happy, that first scene just won't leave me alone so i made a whole thing of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 14:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21138068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypnoshatesme/pseuds/hypnoshatesme
Summary: "I come to you for something else.", Holland said, voice sultry.Rhy smiled. It had been a while since Holland made time for him, had been a while since he stopped by Rhy's chambers before leaving for home. But he always came, eventually.





	Truth at the End

"I come to you for something else.", Holland said, voice sultry.

Rhy smiled. It had been a while since Holland made time for him, had been a while since he stopped by Rhy's chambers before leaving for home. But he always came, eventually. It was their little game, a dance that had started with Rhy's curious glances, Holland's knowing ones. Rhy had lost track of time, didn't know when they started. He made himself comfortable I his chair, looking up at the Antari. It was always a challenge with him and Rhy relished in trying to get him to give in first, trying to make him swoon like he does with all others.

"And what would that be?", he answers, pointedly looking away from Holland and pouring himself a glass of wine. He felt Holland's eyes follow his every movement. It made Rhy's skin tingle.

Holland's hand was on his before Rhy got the glass to his lips. Rhy looked up, surprised, but before he could say anything, Holland's lips were on his. It usually took longer than this, took more, and Rhy wanted to tease him, ask him if he had missed Rhy that much. But he also really wanted to return the kiss, more desperate than usual, more pressing. Rhy wondered, distantly, if there would be a new scar on Hollan's body as he kissed back, free hand burying in Holland's hair, pulling him closer.

Holland guided Rhy's hand back to the table, setting the glass down before pulling the prince to his feet. He wondered if they knew. Had wondered, ever since he started indulging the prince. 

There had been something in Astrid's eye, a glint, just for a second, as she said: "I'm sure you'll persuade him.". As if she knew. Maybe she did.  
They hadn't given him specific orders concerning the Red London heir, nothing to prevent him from returning curious looks. It was a distraction, a game. One the prince was surprisingly good at. Holland was up for the challenge. And he had more patience than Rhy. 

He usually waited until Rhy's fingers started twitching, until he started biting his lip, his eyes restless, torn between looking at Holland and also pointedly not looking at Holland. It was quite the show. Usually, Holland enjoyed watching, enjoyed their little dance, the teasing, the taunting. 

Not today. He pulled Rhy up from the chair, never breaking the kiss. Rhy's hands were already working on Holland's buttons and he was glad that last month he hadn't had the time for this. Rhy wouldn't ask, would probably use it as the explanation. Rhy's hands were finding their way under Holland's shirt and he shivered, the skin so smooth, so warm. He pulled the prince towards his ridiculous plush bed. 

Holland waited for the prince to sit up. He had been watching Holland dress through lazy eyes, still half buried in his mountain of pillows. Holland would never understand how Rhy could actually sleep in that bed. He would never understand a lot of things about the strange prince, who was finally starting to drag himself into something resembling a sitting position after Holland had been looking at him for the past minute, waiting.  
"What else?", he says, stretching, and Holland watches the muscles in his shoulders shift before answering: "A gift.".

That gets Rhy's attention. He cocks an eyebrow, confused and curious. He was too easy to read, had always been. Kell, too. The Red London royals apparently did not care or were not aware of how much they showed.

Holland reached into his pocket, hand closing around the talisman. "It is your birthday soon, is it not?". 

Rhy is now leaning forward, interested. But also doubtful: "Transference is treason.", he cites.  
Holland rolled his eyes. He held the talisman between them, watching the light catching in the red gem. He had lost count of the diverse uses the Danes found for his blood. They were always trying something new. And even if they weren't, making him bleed was still their favourite way to stop boredom. They got bored horribly often.

"I picked it out here, in your London.", he watches as Rhy's amber eyes take in the stone, the doubt leaving his features. He looked rather enchanted by the light illuminating the deep red. It was the same look he got when Holland gave into his request to help him with his Maktahn. 

Holland didn't know why the prince wasted time learning a language he would never use. He asked Rhy, once, after he kept insisting on it. Apparently, he had helped Kell with studying it when it was decided that communication between the worlds was supposed to be taken up again and had taken a liking to the language. 

Holland had relented, more to finally have Rhy stop asking than anything. The prince certainly had a gift for languages, picking up the foreign phonetics surprisingly quickly, his smooth accent only really coming through at the edges. His eyes lit up whenever he learned something new, delighted by hearing the new words coming out of his own mouth.

Like with everything with the prince, his mood shifted quickly, however. Sometimes only minutes passed before Rhy's eyes started wandering restlessly, he started shifting in his seat, one hand running through his own curls, rings catching in his hair, and the other hand that he had rested on Holland's knee, started to draw patterns absentmindedly. It was obvious that his attention was drifting, and Holland knew that, within moments, he'd suggest doing something else. Rhy was too easy to read.

Finally, Rhy closed his hand around the talisman, looking at it more closely in his hand. "What is it for?", he mumbled, letting the stone roll to the side in his palm, watching the liquid interior shift, fascinated.

"For strength.", Holland said, after a short break. He had known to say that the moment the Danes had instructed him to make the prince accept the gift. Rhy was too easy to read.

He looked up, surprised. Surprise shifted to a pleased smile, starting to pull the necklace over his head. Holland watched as a curl got caught in the chain for a moment and, not for the first time, he wondered how Rhy never seemed bothered by his jewellery pulling at his hair. He was probably too used to it.

He looked up at Holland as soon as the stone touched his skin, flashing him one of his bright grins. The stone looked quite at home against Rhy's dark skin and Holland knew that it would blend in just fine with Rhy's red clothes later on, nobody would notice. Holland nodded, before turning to leave.

He was halfway to the door when Rhy said: "Thank you.". Holland gave another short nod, but didn't stop. He didn't want to stay long enough to see Rhy's face turning into somebody else's, didn't want to see Astrid's cruel smile on the prince's face. He was late anyways.

~

Rhy wanted to know. Kell had told him what happened that night, what happened when the white queen had taken over his body, the disease spreading, the stone. Holland's death. Holland being his regent's puppet. 

Rhy had wondered, ever since, if all had been a setup for that night. There were more important, more pressing things to think about, he knew, but at the back of his mind there was the persistent question of if all had been just an order. Kell had shrugged when Rhy asked him about how throughout the grip of the king and queen was around Holland. Rhy hadn't pressed any further. He was fairly sure Kell had suspicions about his involvement with the other Antari, but Rhy was not about to admit it. It didn't matter anyways. He couldn't undo the past. And Holland was dead. Rhy was dead. Except he wasn't. And neither was Holland, apparently. 

Rhy wanted to know. He took a last, deep breath to steady his nerves before entering the prison. He dismissed the guards that were glaring at the cell, told them to wait with his personal ones in front of the door to the stairs. Some seemed nervous about leaving the prince alone with the Antari, but most seemed relieved. Rhy waited until the last one was gone before looking into the occupied cell. 

He had felt Hollands eyes on him since he came in, an all too familiar tingling. Holland looked like a ghost, his pale skin a stark contrast in the dark cell, barely illuminated by the torchlight from outside the bars. He was chained to the wall, sitting on the edge of the cot. They had stripped him to the waist, the view making Rhy suppress a shiver. He uses to come down here a lot with Kell. He knew how cold it got, especially in winter. Then again, Holland told him once that his world is always cold. Maybe he didn't feel it anymore. Or maybe that had also been a lie. 

As Rhy approached, he noticed the bruises and scratches covering Holland's body, most already healing. Even the faded ones stood out strong against the white skin and silver scars that marred his chest. Rhy had spend a lot of time tracing them with his fingers, wondering about them. Sometimes he had asked, but Holland was never one to talk if he did not want to. And Rhy had stopped the questions, eventually. Now he knew and it made him angry. Angry at Holland for never telling him. Angry at himself for not being more persistent. Angry at the Danes for being cruel. 

Even if he had known, he couldn't have stopped it, in the end. Just another thing that didn't matter. Another aspect of his powerlessness. Would he have been more sceptical about accepting the talisman if he had known? He didn't know. Part of him was afraid that it would have still played out the same way it had.  
Rhy finally looked into Holland's face. He couldn't read his expression in the poor light. Then again, he had never been able to read him. It had been one of the things that had intrigued him about the foreign Antari in the first place. The dark shadows beneath the Antari's eyes – far too similar to the ones under Rhy's – did betray his neutral mask. He was obviously tired, exhausted. Strands of silver stood out against his charcoal hair, draining Holland of more colour, making him look worse. 

The blindfold the guards had forced unto Holland's eyes when brining him to the cell was dangling at his neck, a fresh bruise blooming at his jaw. Rhy wondered, distantly, which of the guards had done it. And why he had stopped.

"Kell intervened.", Holland said, his voice even hoarser than usual. Rhy had always been equally fascinated and unsettled by the fact that, sometimes, it seemed like the Antari could read his mind. 

Rhy had accused him of it, once, half-jokingly. Holland had countered that it was just observation, that Rhy simply was an open book. Rhy had pouted at that, not liking the dismissive tone, and Holland had mumbled 'case in point', before following the line of Rhy's jaw with his fingertips, before pressing his lips to Rhy's. The pout dissolved into a smile as Rhy returned the kiss, insult forgotten as his own hands travelled up Holland's sides. 

"I wanted to ask you something.", Rhy finally managed to say, meeting Holland's eyes. Holland didn't react, but Rhy knew he was listening. "Was it all a setup? Did they force you…", Rhy trailed off. Did they force him to seduce Rhy? Was everything part of an order to gain Rhy's trust so he'd accept the gift? Did they force him to sleep with Rhy? Did Rhy really want to know?

Holland just kept looking at him, his face an unmoving mask. Rhy held his gaze, trying to find something, anything that might give away the answer to his question. The question that had been at the back of his mind for months, that he had been sure he'd never have answered. But Holland was back, was right in front of him. Refusing to give away the answer. As usual. 

Rhy shouldn't be surprised, not really, but it was still infuriating. He wondered if Holland could see his frustration in his face, the way he always seemed to pick up on the smallest flickers on emotions on Rhy's face. The thought only made Rhy angrier. 

They held each other's gaze for what felt like an eternity to Rhy. He was giving Holland time to answer, to give anything away. Deep down, Rhy knew it wouldn't work. Holland never surrendered information he was not willing to share. And he clearly was not planning to answer Rhy's question. Rhy noticed that he had his hands balled into fists at his sides and slowly unclenched them. He was wasting his time, he knew. He needed sleep. He shouldn't have come in the first place. It didn't matter anyways.

Rhy turned around. It really didn't matter. He walked away, feeling Holland's eyes on his all the way. Until the door closed behind Rhy. He breathed in. It didn't matter. He started making his way up the stairs, shaking the damp cold of the prison off with every stride. Shaking off the intense look of those two-toned eyes that had always seemed to look right through him. Maybe they had. 

Rhy had never liked green anyways. He shook his head as his steps brought him to his room. It all lay in the past. He had more important matters to keep him awake at night. He really did.

~

Holland was exhausted by the time he made it to the prince's – king's – chambers. He probably shouldn't have come. Rhy had obviously avoided him since he woke up. That was fine. Holland hadn't come had he not caught the unspoken questions in his eyes. Had Rhy's gaze not still wondered towards Holland when he thought Holland wasn't paying attention. 

Rhy had looked older when he saw him again, his amber eyes heavy with grief and worries. The shadows under his eyes he had had when he came to the prison were fading, but that did nothing to cover the exhaustion. At least not for Holland, who had spent much of his time studying the prince's face. The king's face. The crown had looked so heavy on his head.

Now the crown was sitting in Rhy's lap, his fingers tracing it absently. He had looked up when Holland entered, but hadn't spoken. He looked tired. It was still early and Holland knew that when they met, there was nothing that could get Rhy out of bed at this hour. But now he was sitting on his couch, already dressed, a half-filled glass next to him. 

His eyes were searching, as they often were when looking at Holland's. Holland wondered if they were easier to read, now that both were green. Now that it took most of his energy to stand and he sometimes found himself too tired to control his features. Though, of course, most of it was automatic. Had been for years.

Rhy sat up straighter, biting his lip. Holland hadn't seen him do that in a while. A habit whenever he was nervous, or even just having a hard time pronouncing one of the words he made Holland teach him. Holland couldn't tell if Rhy was doing it now out of nervousness of the effort of trying to read Holland's expression. Maybe a bit of both.

"I thought you were supposed to meet up with Kell.", the king finally said. He was trying to sound neutral, but Holland heard the question in it, saw the spark of curiosity in his eyes. He nearly smiled to himself. Certain things didn't change.

"I still have some time.", Holland answered, unclenching his grip on the stick he used to get around, and slowly walking towards Rhy. Rhy watched him, attentively, a hint of distrust showing in his body tensing. Good. Rhy had always been too trusting for his own good.

He looked up at Holland, when latter came to a stand right in front of him, breathing already slightly ragged from the short walk. Holland closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for his lungs to calm down. He had a much longer and steeper walk before him, there was no time to get worn out by crossing a room. It was annoying.

When he opened his eyes again, Rhy was still looking at him, one eyebrow raised in a silent question. Holland had thought of what to say countless times, but now his mind was blank. Rhy cocked his head to the side slightly, expectantly. Holland watched as a curl caught in his eyebrow and, before he could stop himself, his hand brushed it away. Rhy flinched at the touch, his skin hot against Holland's cold fingers. Though the temperature was probably not the only reason, as curiosity gave way to distrust on his face, his body tensing further. Holland felt a wave of sadness wash over him, but he kept his face in its usual mask. 

He bent forward, and Rhy's eyes widened in panic. Holland closed his eyes, pressing his lips to Rhy's forehead before Rhy actually jumped away or called for the guards. He felt Rhy freeze underneath. He lingered, for a moment, whispering against his skin: "Anoshe.".

It felt foreign on his tongue, Arnesian always had, too smooth. Holland had never set out to properly learn the common tongue of Red London, but he had, over the years, picked up enough to find his way around. Still, he rarely spoke it. 

Holland pulled away, carefully, turning away without giving Rhy another glance. He did what he set out to do. He needed to go to Kell. To go home. Holland heard Rhy shift on his way to the door, but he did not look back.

**Author's Note:**

> My hand slipped after reading the whole trilogy twice in less than a month whoops


End file.
